


Punctuated Equilibrium

by delectate



Category: Pandorum
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-14
Updated: 2013-01-14
Packaged: 2017-11-25 13:20:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/639303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/delectate/pseuds/delectate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Instead of a slow, continuous movement, evolution tends to be characterized by long periods of virtual standstill, punctuated by episodes of very fast development. Post-movie, rated M later on for language and other things. Nadia/Bower.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 01

* * *

I remember lonely and  
what it tasted like before  
your name took root in my throat,  
before everything reminded me of your mouth.  
I don't know how I lived that way…

—Warsan Shire

* * *

They were running, despite the fact that she could barely move from her injuries. Bower was half-carrying her, half-supporting her, and the sound of rushing water was everywhere; it was the Tanisian ocean—they were underwater, they _had been all this time_ —flooding the _Elysium._

Before Nadia knew what was happening the ocean water in the ship was waist-deep, and Bower was lifting her and shoving her roughly up into a lifepod capsule. She struggled ineffectually, fear rising in her throat. " _Are you crazy?_ "

He wrestled her in, climbing in beside her and activating the locking mechanism from outside. The capsule's door shut over them. Nadia began a full-fledged panic.

Bower directed her line of sight with a nod of his head. "You see that?" It was a Hunter, crawling into the lifepod bay room from a ceiling vent, and it had spotted them.

" _Fuck him,_ " Nadia spat. Around them, the water that had flowed into the capsule was cold—biting, stinging cold. She shivered, teeth chattering.

The lifepod began to shake as it prepared to launch. Nadia's panic increased exponentially. They were going to be expelled into the ocean depths and die slowly, painfully, by suffocation. It was her worst nightmare, more so than her past few months on the ship. "We need to get out of here!"

"Hold on _._ " Bower held her securely, attempting to pacify her. How the _fuck_ he could be so calm when he'd just experienced a paranoid hallucination on the bridge moments earlier was beyond her comprehension.

"Not like this," she hissed, fighting him with her last ounce of strength. " _I can't die like this!_ " Like an animal in a cage. _If I'm to die_ , she'd already thought a million times since she'd first woken up on the ship, _it will be fighting—it will be while slashing with my knife at the belly of the beast._

But he was relentless; he held her tighter, pulling her into him and throwing her arms around his neck. " _Hold on!_ "

She grappled for purchase in the capsule, her feet slipping against the watery floor, and that was when they heard a thump and a snarl—the Hunter was flattened against the lifepod window as it drowned. The water in the room had reached the ceiling.

And then they launched, the force of it pulling both herself and Bower underwater. The capsule's interior lights shorted out as they surfaced briefly for air, before they were dunked under again. With the motion of the pod and the water sloshing around inside of their capsule, it was impossible to keep their heads above it.

She saw flashes of red light—Bower had cracked a lightstick. He pressed her up against the console's interior, keeping her afloat, and it was then that Nadia realized he was hastily trying to fit a breathing mask over her face.

She fought him again. "No, I can't—"

"Just _breathe_ ," Bower said sternly, and she clutched at his arm as he fit the mask over her nose and mouth. "Breathe!"

Nadia breathed, and inhaled deeply the paralysis-inducing drugs in the capsule's ventilation system, designed to send the passenger into immediate hyper-sleep.

She awoke on the surface of Tanis, floating on the water in their open capsule as a makeshift boat, Bower's arm supporting her.

"Just breathe," he said again, and she coughed water as she gasped for air.

And it _was_ air, not the stale stench of the ship, but fresh, clean air—something she couldn't even remember from Earth. Perhaps they weren't meant to remember their lives before the _Elysium_ and before Tanis. To live new lives, they would have to wipe the slate completely clean and start anew. Perhaps it was better that way anyway, as their homeland was gone forever.

Bower's hand cradled the back of her neck. His tone had gone strangely quiet and gentle. "It's safe to wake up, now," he said, his voice croaking slightly.

She lifted her eyes to meet his. He had put her briefly to sleep during their painful ascent to the surface, and had held his own breath underwater the entire time. He'd sacrificed his air for hers. He'd saved them both. Nadia felt the corners of her lips shakily turning upward, even as she still panted with disorientation.

The landscape of Tanis was spread out as far as they could see—the beach, the cliffs, the waterfall runoff from a higher-altitude lake. Two nearly-full moons hung like transparent ghosts in the still-lit sky. It was like something out of a dream; she was sure she'd never seen anything as beautiful.

And then another lifepod from the _Elysium_ suddenly popped up beside them, breaking the surface of the waves. And then another. And yet another.

The breach of the ship's hull had activated the remainder of the active hyper-bunks, and ejected them to the surface.

Bower smiled—the first time she'd ever seen him do so genuinely, where it reached his eyes—and he ducked his head, pressing his forehead against hers as they watched their fellow colonists all around them awakening from over nine hundred years of sleep.

* * *

It had been relatively easy to maneuver their capsule to the shore. It had been a little more difficult to swim out to the other hyper-bunk capsules to help the newly-awakened passengers do the same with theirs, but Bower had insisted upon doing so himself while Nadia remained on the beach. The stab wound she'd sustained from the crazed madman in the bowels of the ship ached with what was probably infection from his rusty blade, and it hadn't helped that Gallo had punched her there during their brief scuffle on the bridge. She held her side, pressing her hand against the painful wound as she rummaged through the inside of the capsule.

It was important to salvage everything they could; the lifepods contained emergency medical supplies, rations, and compartmentalized basic survival equipment like blankets, clothing and even camping gear designed to weather harsh climates. The hyper-bunks had been designed to allow them to crash-land on the surface of a planet and at least give them a fighting chance, in a worst-case scenario.

Having finally gotten out of the ship, Nadia decided their scenario had just taken a turn for the better. For the moment, at least.

The others that had awakened were still disoriented, still shaking from the effects of their extended hyper-sleep, with wobbly movements as they peeled the gelatinous layers of excess skin from their bodies and faces. Nadia saw from a distance as Bower swam from capsule to capsule, speaking briefly to each passenger and moving on to the next. It was probably his military training that enabled him to press on in the face of what had to be certain fatigue—she wondered briefly how many hours he'd been awake—but sooner or later she knew his energy would run out and he would crash, and crash hard. _Hopefully he'll make it to shore before then._

Her searching hand fell on a medical kit, and with trembling fingers she pried it open and fumbled through it. No injectable antibiotics, but there was some sort of topical stuff. She tore the package open with her teeth and quickly applied some to the wound near her ribcage; it wouldn't stop an infection that had already reached her bloodstream, but it was better than nothing. She would have to find intravenous supplies soon to prevent sepsis.

No sooner than she'd tended to her injury she heard sloshing at the water's edge, and turned to see Bower staggering ashore. His exhaustion was palpable, even from a distance.

He flopped down in a soggy heap beside her in the sand. "…Hey," he panted in greeting. She nodded in return, and he looked at her re-bandaged stab wound. "Are you all right? Did you find anything to treat it?"

"Just some topical," she replied, wincing as she turned to him. "I need to properly clean it and find more antibiotics. Injectables."

"We'll find some, don't worry. I'm sure we have them somewhere." His blue eyes roved over her searchingly as he fought to catch his breath.

There was so much to say to one another, now that they were free of the nightmare they'd experienced— _are you all right, too? My God, we made it …how many of us are left?_ —but instead her natural German reticence kicked in, and all she said to him was a clipped, "You should probably rest for a bit, yourself."

Bower gave her that innocent grin again, and it reminded her of their exchange in the biolab when she'd asked if he were hungry. His response had made her think of a little boy. _I'm_ _ **starving**_ _._ She wondered exactly how old he was, whether he was a few years younger or older than herself.

"You don't have to worry about me," he said, still with the small crooked smile, "even though it's nice that you do."

At that, she frowned. "You are most likely the highest-ranking surviving officer from the ship…and you now have a lot of people to look after. You need to take care of yourself." She fixed him with as stern a look she could muster over her pain level. "Just keep that in mind."

Bower's expression fell in surprise at her reaction. His confusion was so obvious, his face so open and honest, that Nadia knew then he'd never be able to keep anything from her. She didn't know whether that was necessarily a good or bad thing.

"I just—" he began, hurt evident on his face, "I didn't mean—"

She got to her feet, a bit off-balance. "Of course you didn't," she offered tersely, staggering away from him to put some distance between him and herself, for reasons she didn't want to fully admit to.

* * *

Nadia only saw glimpses of Bower for the remainder of the day. She busied herself, as she saw he did, with helping the other survivors. The Tanisian sun was starting to set by the time everyone had made it ashore with their capsules. The metal tubes littered the beach like giant silver coffins; it was ironic, she thought, given that the hyper-bunks were what had ultimately rescued the remaining sleepers.

There were plenty of capsules that contained supplies only, no passengers, and there were plenty of necessities to go around. There were only approximately eleven or twelve hundred people left. Of an original crew of sixty thousand, that was a miniscule percentage—but it was indeed enough to start over. Just with a smaller gene pool instead of a larger one.

There was no one still alive from her own team, so despite her inherent reserve she made it a priority to introduce herself to her fellow colonists. Everyone would have to work together now—not as it had been on the ship, where all were forced to fend for themselves and kill or be killed. Nadia knew the transition would be difficult for her and most likely for Bower as well. They'd been through something horrifyingly traumatic, she for several months, and nearly everyone else who'd survived had slept right through it.

In her efforts to help she had somehow located a passenger with medical expertise, and they'd quickly found her the necessary intravenous antibiotics for her stab wound. It was a good thing she hadn't had to wait too long to treat it—she had noticed the injury had become progressively more painful by the hour. She saw from a distance, as the practitioner re-bandaged her wound with fresh gauze, that Bower had found more surviving officers—flight crew from the ship—amongst the awakened colonists. She wasn't certain at first whether they outranked him or not, as they didn't have their flight uniforms, but she soon realized there was at least one who did as she witnessed Bower pull a quick salute.

_So he's_ _ **not**_ _going to be in charg_ e, she thought, with what she recognized was a small sense of relief.

Amidst the other supplies that had washed ashore with the rest of them, there was an ample supply of clean clothes. Most of them still resembled flight suits, but were at least made of a more comfortable and breathable material, mainly cotton synthetics. Nadia found a secluded spot to change, and after her quick rinse in the ocean and a new uniform even she was surprised at how much better she felt. She still needed a proper bath, but with the sun setting it would have to wait until the next day. Food and sleep were more priority than anything else; she was starving and couldn't remember the last time she'd gotten restful sleep in the last several months.

She rejoined the rest of the colonists on the beach. Several had already set up nylon weather-resistant domed shelters a safe distance away from the water's edge; there were more than enough tents to go around. The supplies had accounted for many more surviving the trip.

She was just about to secure her own shelter and a supply of rations for the night, when she was approached by a tall, dark-haired man wearing a crisp new flight suit, like Bower's but with more insignia on it. _"Entschuldigen Sie_ ," he said in a terrible German accent, and inclined his head politely. "Dr. Nadia Mueller?"

It felt like forever since she'd been addressed by her full name and title. "… _Ja_ ," she replied, before she could stop herself. She shook her head. "I speak English. Yes?"

He extended a hand, and she returned the gesture tentatively. "Sergeant Wilkes. I'm with Flight Team Eight. I believe you're familiar with Corporal Bower, ship's mechanical engineer, Flight Team Five?"

"Yes," she said curtly, nodding and pursing her lips. "Yes."

"I know it's getting late, and we just landed, but I'm going to have to insist that you join us for a debriefing session," he continued, thumbing at a large, white domed tent behind him. Her heart sank. "We need to verify some of Bower's outlandish claims."

Nadia averted her eyes briefly, before looking at Wilkes again and nodding at him. "Yes," she said again, feeling a pit of dread forming in her stomach. "I would imagine you would."

* * *

In the tent, which was large enough for several adults to stand at full height, she saw a handful of what were presumably lower-ranked officers seated cross-legged on the cushioned floor mat. They looked up with interest as she entered. Bower was over on the far right, his form slightly hunched over and practically hugging his knees with his arms; he raised his head at her appearance, and she was almost taken aback at the hope that briefly lit up his eyes. He masked it soon afterwards—something he probably wasn't used to, hiding his feelings—and Nadia felt a pang of regret for her earlier treatment of him when they'd washed ashore.

_But you did it for a reason_ , she reminded herself, and fortified her emotional defenses. It was so easy to shut her feelings down now, after her experiences on the ship. They hadn't served her any purpose.

_I just need to find out for myself._

"This is Dr. Nadia Mueller," Wilkes announced to the group at large. "She's now the head of Ecological Development and Biological Sciences. She was awake on the ship for the longest of anyone here—she and Corporal Bower escaped the ship together after the hull breach."

Wilkes took a seat near the other officers and gestured to her at the space opposite them. She sat, straightening her back and trying not to look at Bower. The sergeant had picked up a palm computer and was now thumbing through it, most likely pulling up files.

"So, let me get something straight," he began. "You were awake on the ship, for approximately how long—a few months?"

"Five or six months," she replied, a bit clipped. "There was no way to tell exactly."

Wilkes glanced at his file. "And…you had contact with these…these _man-eating_ _creatures_ , these 'Hunters', as Corporal Bower describes them?"

"Yes, several times."

"How did you manage to survive for so long?"

Nadia squared her jaw. "Running. Hiding. Stealing." She shuddered imperceptibly as she recalled the feeling of her bare feet, wrapped in rags, pounding the metal floor grates of the ship as she ran with inhuman screams floating up behind her. "I became very proficient with my knife."

The other officers seemed to nod their approval. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught Bower gazing at her thoughtfully.

"Dr. Mueller," Wilkes continued, his stare penetrating, "what exactly _were_ those creatures?"

She dropped her eyes briefly. "It is my belief that they are the descendants of passengers that were let loose on the ship, a long time ago…and that they evolved into what they are because of the _allazosartan_ in our feeding tubes."

"That's the pharmacological name…you're talking about _Adaptor,_ which is the evolution-accelerating enzyme," Wilkes confirmed, and she nodded at the drug's generic name. "Could this have happened on a relatively quick timescale? Like ten, fifty years or so?"

"No." Nadia's eyebrows knit. Hadn't Bower told them how long they had been asleep? "It's fast, but it would take at least centuries…even longer."

The sergeant and the other officers exchanged knowing looks. _Bower told them and they don't believe him,_ she realized.

"Before the hull was breached by Corporal Bower's weapon," she asserted, raising her chin and noticing Bower shift slightly in her peripheral view at the strength in her voice, "we saw the flight computer register the recorded time since _Elysium's_ launch. It has been _eight hundred year_ s since our landing on Tanis." She shook her head. "There is no other explanation as to why the reactor was in its final shutdown stages, and how those beings on the ship came to be. It's because nearly a thousand years have passed."

A couple of the lower-ranked officers paled a bit.

Wilkes cleared his throat and sniffed. "In regards to the hull breach—tell us what happened, exactly."

Nadia turned her head to glance at Bower and met his eyes; she saw his throat jerk with a quick swallow. Wilkes' voice drew her attention to him again. "Tell us exactly what _you_ saw."

Now it was her turn to shift uncomfortably. She did not like reminiscing on the details of what had happened a mere twelve hours ago. "When we made it to the bridge, there was already someone there—someone named Gallo, who had masqueraded as Bower's lieutenant." She glanced at him again, and Bower's eyes changed as his lips twitched. "He's the one who broke the flight rotation and set some of the crew loose, trapping them in the bowels of the ship. He left them there to fend for themselves, as he went back into hyper-sleep. He freely admitted this to us."

Wilkes nodded. "Go on."

"He was overcome with this…this space madness, that flight crews have called 'Pandorum'. He began trying to convince Corporal Bower that he would be better off without the chains of his morality." She shifted again as she recalled Bower's eyes during the conflict. "Corporal Bower fought against him, of course. But…"

"But what?"

"There was a moment when his resistance faltered," she admitted, her voice losing its edge and becoming quiet. In her mind, she saw Gallo pressing Bower's head into the armrest of the captain's chair, and Bower's eyes glazing over as he stared at the console on the other side of the bridge. _They're coming in._

"Go on, Doctor."

Her gaze became far away. "I attacked Gallo, hoping to break whatever hold he had on Corporal Bower," she went on. "But I had already sustained a crippling injury, and he was very strong. I wasn't a match for him." _Gallo wrestling her knife away, and turning it on her to swipe at her, in his frenzy—she dodges him effectively enough and manages to knock her blade out of his hands, but he punches her ruthlessly, lifting her up in the air as he holds her by the neck._

"He incapacitated me and had me at knifepoint, and was about to cut my throat. That was when Corporal Bower discharged the weapon."

"Did he do it to save you?"

Nadia's blood went cold. She had to answer truthfully. She knew now that this wasn't just a debriefing—this was an interrogation, maybe even a court marshal, of Bower.

"No." Her eyes darted away. "He fired it at the console. He…he thought the creatures were coming in through the side panel of the bridge." She caught sight of Bower lowering his head slightly. "It was the ricochet of his weapon that caused the hull breach."

All of the officers, including Wilkes, tightened their lips in unison. "So you confirm that Corporal Bower had succumbed to Pandorum, then."

"…Only momentarily."

Wilkes seemed surprised. "Only for a moment?"

She steeled herself, finding her resolve from somewhere deep inside, and fixed them with an unwavering stare of her own. "He snapped out of his hallucination the moment that he saw the glass from the overhead viewfinder was cracking, directly over where I was on my knees on the floor."

Bower raised his head.

"So you're saying that he regained his senses, brought himself _out_ of the throes of Pandorum, because he saw that you were in danger?" Wilkes asked skeptically.

Nadia nodded, stiffening her back, and raised her chin defiantly.

"Yes."

The sergeant gave Bower a long, calculating look, and then turned his attention back to her. "I certainly hope you're being truthful, Dr. Mueller," he said, his voice low and somewhat menacing. "Pandorum is nothing to trifle with. A single officer under its influence took the lives of over _five thousand people_ during the _Eden_ mission. I would hate to put our fragile new colony at risk because of one man's mental breakdown."

Her jaw worked. "So would I."

* * *

The impromptu meeting was adjourned. She exited the tent shortly after, intent on putting distance between herself and the interrogation, the sergeant, Bower, all of it—but someone quickly grabbed her arm once she was outside, holding her back. She didn't even struggle in his grip; she knew it was him. If it had been anyone else, she would have instantly put a blade to their neck.

"—Hey, wait. _Wait._ " Bower's voice cracked slightly. " _Nadia_ , _wait._ "

She stopped in her tracks, turning to face him in the light of makeshift hurricane lamps and torches flickering in the ocean's breeze. His face was earnest and plaintive, his brows knit together in consternation. He swallowed quickly.

"I…I wanted to thank you," he said, his voice low, "for saying what you did, to them."

Nadia pursed her lips, noting that his attention shifted immediately to her mouth. "You don't have to thank me." She glanced at the tent they had just left before looking back into his eyes. "They were going to court marshal you in there, weren't they?"

"If they thought I was some kind of threat, yes, probably." Bower still looked apprehensive.

"What would they have done with you?"

He shrugged. "I have no idea what they think they can do, here on Tanis…it's not as though they can just imprison me somewhere, right?" He half-smiled, attempting to make a joke of it. Nadia flinched.

"You're lucky they don't," she retorted, her eyes hardening. Once more she felt herself doubting, and she turned away again out towards the night.

"— _Wait_ ," Bower insisted, holding her arm, and when she looked at his face she saw the agitation there. He looked as though he were struggling to say the right thing to keep her there beside him. "…Where are you going?"

"Food, shelter for the night." Her tone was clipped.

"I have food. My shelter's not far from here." He jerked his head in the direction of it. She balked, still uncertain.

Bower's grip tightened slightly. "Please," he entreated, his tone gentling. "I need to talk to you."

There was that look again in his eyes—the desperate, helpless one she recognized from the ship, when he'd watched her clean her wounds with motor oil; the same one he gave her later after he'd convinced Leland to free them from their chains, but not before the madman had thrust a rusty blade below her ribcage to shut her up. It was a complicated look, with a lot of layers of meaning underneath. She didn't like to analyze it too heavily.

Nadia uneasily lowered her gaze. "…All right, then," she yielded, her voice soft.

He led the way. The surviving colonists had already set up rows upon rows of compact shelters, lined up as neatly as if they were miniature track houses. Apparently no one wanted to venture very far from the group at large—at least, understandably, not on their first night on a new planet. The closeness would make for an interesting lack of personal privacy, she mused.

_Then again, it's not as though you're thinking of doing anything_ _ **remotely**_ _considered private with him_ , she reminded herself, and her inner voice sounded mildly chastising in her own head.

Bower entered first, ducking below the flap at the entrance. When she followed him in she saw that she could stand to full height inside, as she was able to with the sergeant's tent; it was a large enough temporary living space for at least four people, more if absolutely necessary. He'd already secured rations of food and a portable heating stove with a hand-primed generator, as well as the essentials such as sleeping mats and blankets. There were more supplies gathered in the far corner.

"The officers got the first picks of everything," he explained. He brushed past her as she gazed around the tent, and activated a small portable heater on the floor to warm up the enclosed space. The air outside had chilled considerably since sunset. "Are you hungry?"

Despite herself, her mouth quirked at the corners at his question. "Don't tell me—grasshoppers?"

Bower gave a short, barking laugh. " _No._ " He must have hated eating them. "The rations aren't that much better, really, but at least they're not crunchy on the outside and slimy on the inside."

"We're all slimy on the inside," she murmured distractedly, and then bit her lip when she realized what she'd said. Bower turned his head to look at her curiously in her peripheral, but she chose to pretend not to see it. The fact that she'd let such a weird comment slip was a sign that she was quickly becoming exhausted, but she needed to be more careful with her words around him.

He was heating up a portion of food—something that vaguely resembled instant oatmeal—and the aroma, however bland, was making Nadia salivate. "I've already eaten some, so this is for you," he noted. "You should have found me earlier—I've been eating nonstop since securing this stuff. I didn't realize how hungry I really was."

When it was done, she took the container and utensils he offered and sat cross-legged on the floor, hungrily diving into the food. It was hot, though, and her eyes teared up as she panted while trying to wolf it down.

"…Easy," Bower cautioned, with a hesitant smile. He handed her a juice pouch. " _Easy._ Don't go so fast. I almost got sick doing that." She nodded impatiently and tried to take smaller bites.

He sat beside her and watched her as she ate. Nadia found she was so ravenous that she couldn't have cared if he'd insisted she strip naked before eating—nothing was going to disrupt her appetite. She barely looked up at him the entire time; it wasn't until she was on her last few bites when he finally spoke, his voice low and gravelly with an undercurrent of hurt.

"Do you hate me?"

She nearly choked on the remainder of her food as she looked up. " _Hate_ you?"

"For what I did, on the bridge…when you and Gallo were fighting. When you needed my help."

"I don't hate you, no." Nadia shook her head. "But I _am_ —"

"—Afraid it'll happen again," he finished, his blue-gray eyes boring into her, "aren't you?"

It was why she'd been so abrasive to him, after they'd washed ashore and she realized he was most likely the only surviving military officer left—and therefore in a position of leadership. She looked at him now skeptically as he sat before her, scrutinizing him, but her voice retained its earlier softness. "How do you know it's gone, just because you're off the ship?"

Bower ducked his head, averting his gaze. "I don't know how to explain it. I remember everything I did, but…I know I wasn't in control any longer, when I fired on the console." He looked into her eyes again, and the honesty showing in his own made her heart lurch up into her throat. "The minute I turned and saw you on the floor, with the glass view pane cracking over your head, I was in control again. I knew what I had to do…nothing else mattered."

Nadia held his stare evenly. "I've never known anyone who had Pandorum…so I don't know anything about it—how it manifests, how long it lasts." She shook her head. "If you honestly believe you are over it, that you won't let it overtake you again as it did on the bridge, then I have to think that you've beaten it."

He nodded earnestly in reply. "I have."

"But there's _no way to be sure_ ," she reasoned, trying unsuccessfully to ignore his wounded expression. "This condition is in your mind. And we know that your mind can trick you."

His voice was now a whisper. "How can I…prove it to you?"

"You can't." She shook her head again, tiredly. "We'll just have to wait and see. Only time will tell." She pursed her lips, once more noticing his attention to them, and chose her next words carefully. "In the meantime, you should at least be monitored closely for signs of its reappearance."

This time his expression relaxed and his eyes changed, a hint of a smile appearing in them as they had when he'd thought she was worrying over him. "…And whom do you propose should be watching me, so closely?"

Nadia bristled. "I'm not saying this just to have an excuse to be by your side—"

"—You don't need an excuse. I want you there."

… _Damn him_. Her mouth worked to form words that died on her tongue; it wasn't fair that he could render her momentarily speechless like this.

His gaze as it roved over her was gentle, curious. "Nadia _Mueller_ ," he said, trying out her surname. "I didn't know you were a doctor."

"Philosophy doctorate," she explained quietly. "Developmental and Evolutionary Biology."

There was that teasing grin, again. "That's a mouthful."

It was her turn for her gaze to skip to where his lips curved, observing the shape of them and the changes in his face when he smiled, the strong line of his chin, the shadow of blond whiskers appearing around his mouth. A part of her wanted to smile and tease with him, to shed once and for all the emotional baggage of what they'd gone through during the previous thirty-six hours or so—but her exhaustion was catching up with her quickly, and with the warm fullness in her stomach from the food she knew she would need to crash soon. It had to have been obvious on her features. Nadia lowered her eyes. "I should…"

"…Stay here." When she glanced up at him quickly, he deadpanned, "There's more than enough room. It's dark, I don't think you should sleep somewhere by yourself, not here—"

She gave him a reproachful look. "Are you sure that's appropriate?"

"Why wouldn't it be?"

Bower could be such a little kid, sometimes. But to her surprise, he then did something that she hadn't been prepared for—he blushed, just slightly pink around the bridge of his nose. "I'm not going to try anything, I promise," he assured her in earnest. And then, almost quietly, with a self-deprecating quirk of his lips: "…I'm too tired to, right now, anyway."

She allowed herself to smile at his honesty. The expression on his face when he saw her doing so became rapturous with wonder, as if the sight of her smiling was a miracle in and of itself, and it fueled her amusement further—her smile became wider and she dissolved into giggling. A grin slowly dawned across his features, until he too was laughing outright. His laugh was gravelly but gentle, like his speaking voice, and she found she liked the sound of it.

He shook his head. "We're fucking crazy."

"We're fucking _delirious_ ," she corrected, her laughter gentling. "There's a difference." _Barely._

He went about setting up two bedrolls with blankets and pillows. They were atop thin but insulating air mattresses, auto-inflated, and were actually quite comfortable when put over the uneven ground. As she settled into one of the bedrolls, Nadia couldn't shake the feeling this was like some strange camping expedition; she could hear the waves breaking onto the shore not far in the distance, and the low chatter of others' voices in other tents around them, almost like white noise and nearly undetectable from background unless she really listened for it.

She should have still kept up her vigilance that she'd maintained on the ship—she'd survived for that long on virtually no sleep, and the barest of minimal food—but with the lulling sounds around her, it seemed impossible to stay awake any longer. The shelter was warm, cozy. Despite any misgivings she had about Pandorum, Bower was a calming influence as well. His very presence was soothing. He hovered over her, arranging blankets around her. _He must have seen how I can't even keep my eyes open anymore._

"Aren't you going to sleep?" she asked drowsily, as she saw him moving afterward to sit against the wall of the shelter close by, his arms resting on his knees.

"Yeah," he replied, his own voice thick with exhaustion as well. "In a little while. I'm just going to stay up for a bit longer."

She had no strength left to argue. "…Okay."

Behind her closed eyes, images drifted in and out of her mind. Her laboratory on the ship, the sterile white walls, white lights, white benches. The embryonic vault, in all of its magnitude—so many plants and animals, waiting to come to life again, to be reanimated, as they were. The vault would hold in the face of the water breach; as long as the reactor was still online, the specimens would stay intact.

_But I'll have to go back for it_ , she realized dazedly, just before she drifted off into oblivion. _I promised to protect it. And we have a new world to build._


	2. 02

* * *

_Question is, what would be more stupid—trusting that the ship will hold to see another day, when it's kept me alive for all these years? Or trusting somebody who's desperate enough to say anything, just as I'm about to carve a steak out of his girlfriend?_

—Leland

_We're meant to move on…and we're meant to survive. And now, it's more important than ever._

—Nadia

.

.

* * *

.

Nadia startled awake, with an uneasy feeling as though she'd had a bad dream; when she tried to recollect what she'd dreamt about, though, her mind drew a complete blank. She drew herself up on her elbows on the bedroll and attempted to shake off the last vestiges of sleep. It was light, and the sound of the ocean waves breaking across the nearby beach reminded her of where she was. _Tanis._

Beside her Bower was on his side, softly snoring. He looked so young, in repose—his face had momentarily lost the etchings of concern and pragmatic worry that he carried during waking hours, and seemed peaceful, even content. His eyes fluttered underneath his lids and she found herself absently wondering what was running through his mind in the last stages of REM sleep.

She recalled their exchange before she'd fallen asleep, and the discomfort it had sown in her. _You don't need an excuse. I want you there._

Her attention was drawn to movement next to her. Bower's eyes were moving more rapidly behind his lids, and his brow was deeply furrowed. He was twitching. _A nightmare?_ She watched, sitting up beside him, as his breathing became more erratic and his frown intensified.

Finally she took pity on him and shook his shoulder gently, whispering to wake him. "Bower. Bower, wake up." When he startled awake, his sweeping gaze panicked, she shushed to calm him and spoke quietly. "It's alright. You were having a bad dream."

He sat up abruptly, clutching at her arms, panting and dazed from the nightmare. "Are…are you all right?" His other hand moved from her arm to span her waist, feeling over her clothes and along her rib cage for the bandage that covered her stab wound. She squirmed against the onslaught of his prying fingers.

"I'm fine— _stop that_ , wha—"

He expelled a loud sigh of relief when his fingers found the bandage, and he fell back against the bedroll, hands scrubbing at his face and then carding through his close-cropped blond hair. " _God._ " His voice had a ragged edge.

"What was it? What were you—"

Bower shook his head. "You don't want to know. Trust me."

"…Maybe I do want to know." He met her eyes from where he lay on his back, and she held his gaze unflinchingly.

He sighed, resigned. "It was back on the ship. We were suspended and chained up in that guy's lair."

She knew where this was going. _Already you've said enough_ , she thought, but said nothing.

"…He'd stabbed you. I yelled at him, argued with him, but…" he paused, throwing her an anguished look, "…this time he didn't listen to me about the ship." Nadia tried to keep her expression blank.

"He carved you up in front of me," he whispered.

"It was just a dream," she insisted quietly, inwardly flinching all the same. She wouldn't deny she'd harbored her own dark thoughts about what could have happened in that room. "It didn't happen."

"It could have happened." Bower sat up beside her, his eyes roving over her and coming to rest again where the bandage lay underneath her tank top. "I should have never allowed him to do that to you."

"You were in chains, hanging from the ceiling. We all were. You couldn't have stopped it."

He shook his head, determined to blame himself. "I should have never been that gullible..."

Nadia snorted. "You think _you_ were the only one who was gullible? All I wanted was to have some time to rest and breathe, after being chased for so long. So to have someone offer to give you shelter, to let you clean your wounds, to cook for you? Yes, it should have been obvious that it was too good to be true. But I wanted to believe it as much as you did."

And maybe it _had_ been his fault that she'd allowed herself to have just the smallest amount of trust in her fellow man, after seeing how trustworthy Bower himself was—the old Nadia, the pre-Bower Nadia, would surely have picked up on all of the red flags and gotten the hell out of there—but she would never tell him that, not now. "The blame rests just as much on me as it does on you."

She was dimly aware that he'd moved closer, that he was now not much more than a breath away from her, and that the sadness in his eyes was quickly being replaced by something else. She rose to her feet, feigning nonchalance, and made her way to the portable stove. "Besides," she threw back over her shoulder conversationally, "it was Manh who led us into the lair, remember?"

She noticed Bower had schooled his features again, emotions on lockdown, and she felt his eyes on her as she busied herself with food preparation. "Manh…do you think he made it out?" His question sounded dejected, as if he already knew the answer.

"I don't know," she answered honestly. "If he made it into a hyper bunk, perhaps he did." But it wasn't likely, she knew. Manh had drawn the creatures away from the reactor while she and Bower had restarted it. He had bought time for them, most likely with his own life.

There was instant coffee—which paled in comparison to brewed, but was preferable to nothing—and instant soup for breakfast. Most of the rations were freeze-dried and could be reconstituted with water. Nadia filled two cups with the watery brew and brought one to him, sitting back down cross-legged a further distance away than before. She noticed that Bower eyed the extra space with what was obvious displeasure.

"It makes me wonder if there are other survivors out of hyper-sleep still running around on the ship," she mused, hoping to divert his attention.

Bower looked up from his coffee in surprise. "You mean like we were? Wouldn't they be drowned?"

She pondered it. "Not necessarily. The ship is only partially submerged." She nodded at the tent's window, out to where _Elysium's_ outer ring rose in a graceful arch above the water, miles away. "The reactor is stable. If they were able to seal themselves off from the water, they could have survived. The biolab wasn't the only self-sustaining area onboard."

"…I hadn't even thought of that."

She shifted uneasily and lowered her eyes. _Of course, that means that some of the Hunters could have survived, as well._ She looked up. "We have to go back there, you know."

After a beat, he nodded slowly in unspoken understanding. "…I know."

They were interrupted by someone coming through the entrance of the tent, and both of them jumped a bit in surprise—Nadia's fingers found the hilt of her concealed blade before realizing the man in the military uniform wasn't a threat, and she inwardly cursed herself for not being more aware of her surroundings. She saw Bower visibly relax; he was still on edge, as well.

"I'm sorry to barge in, Corporal Bower, Dr. Mueller," the private said, quickly saluting Bower and nodding in Nadia's direction, "but Sergeant Wilkes requests your presence immediately." When Bower rose to his feet but Nadia stayed put on the floor, the flight crewman turned to her specifically. "That means you too, Doctor."

She tightened her lips and rose to join them.

* * *

In the tent, the other members of the flight team had already materialized, and had been awaiting their arrival.

Wilkes turned to Bower and Nadia as they entered, observing the way they stood side-by-side, and she caught a glimpse of something smarmy and self-righteous in the sergeant's eyes as they raked over them. Bower fired off a quick salute, and the sergeant nodded. "At ease, Corporal." Bower's posture relaxed and he clasped his hands behind his back.

The sergeant looked from Bower to her and back again, but his sarcastic words were for Nadia. "…Keeping a close eye on your patient, Doctor? You're taking your caregiver role _quite_ seriously." He smirked.

Her body stiffened. She bristled, fixing Wilkes with a withering glare. Beside her, Bower furtively grazed her elbow with his fingers in an attempt to keep her from reacting; _don't rise to the bait_ , it suggested. Despite the fact that it was meant to soothe, his touch inadvertently gave her gooseflesh.

Wilkes turned and addressed the other dozen officers and enlisted personnel. "We need to begin permanent establishment of the colony. Dr. Mueller, here," he turned briefly back to Nadia, "will be the scientist primarily responsible for ecological development. She's the most qualified, and with only a few researchers left in her discipline, we're going to need to rely on her expertise. Hopefully there are _some_ species of animals here; otherwise we might all have to suck it up and become vegetarians _._ "

Some of the other crew members chuckled in amusement; Nadia's mouth remained firm in a grim line.

"I will need the assistance of engineers and mechanics, as well—we're going to take these capsules and dismantle them piece by piece, in order to salvage whatever we can. After the debriefing this morning, I will have each one of you rounding up the necessary personnel with the skill sets we need."

_Debriefing?_ Nadia wondered.

As if he'd heard her unspoken question, Wilkes continued. "As for the debriefing—I've fielded over 50 questions from colonists this morning, alone." He put his hands behind his back as he continued. "People are talking; they're gossiping and whispering amongst each other about what happened to us. It's better to come clean to everyone with the truth—" he glanced at Bower and Nadia, "—at least, what we _believe_ to be the truth, of what happened during the mission. We need to make certain that there's no misinformation spread."

Nadia bit her lip, biting back a sarcastic retort, but kept her expression neutral.

"There are only fifteen enlisted personnel left, and nearly a hundred colonists for every one of us," Wilkes continued. "This colony needs structure, and order. To maintain some semblance of it, we are going to have each member of the flight crew take eighty or so individuals, and debrief them on what officially happened to the ship, what happened to the rest of the crew, and what happened to Earth."

Nadia glanced at her companion beside her; Bower returned the look, and she read her own thoughts in his blue-gray eyes. _This isn't going to be pretty._

To her surprise, he then turned to face Wilkes and said in a strong, clear voice, "Permission to speak freely, sir."

"Yes?"

Bower only hesitated slightly. "Telling them that Earth has been destroyed…may not be the best course of action right away."

"Why not?"

Bower shook his head. "I just think the shock of finding out that the mission went disastrously wrong and nearly failed, is in itself going to be more than the survivors can collectively take."

The sergeant clasped his hands together. "So you're suggesting we should _lie_ to them by omission, because they're fragile snowflakes who can't handle reality?" The mockery in his question was unmistakable.

"Not lie," Bower corrected, his blond brow furrowing, "but I think that's something that can be kept from them until the timing is a little better. We don't want chaos and mass panic, Sergeant."

"And we won't have it," Wilkes quipped, his voice rising, and gestured to the far end of the tent where Nadia saw a container that had washed up with the other supplies from _Elysium_ —the wrist-guns that she recognized Bower had used on the ship, to protect them from the Hunters. _Anti-riot guns._ "We'll see to that."

_He would use these, without hesitation, on the very people he's supposed to protect?_

Bower had seen it too, and she saw something in his eyes like horrified disbelief. "You're talking about a thousand people, who just woke up after nine hundred years—"

"Yes, and they need to know that Earth is _gone_." Wilkes scowled, his eyes blazing. Nadia was suddenly reminded of Gallo, and she shivered surreptitiously.

"They need to know that there will be no going back, no further transport ships, or help, or anything else coming to Tanis—that _we_ are all that's left." The sergeant turned away as he paced the center of the tent. "They need to learn to be completely self-sufficient in every way, and they need to learn that _now._ "

"That's exactly why we have to go back to the _Elysium_ ," Nadia interjected loudly. She could feel Bower's incredulous stare on her, but she ignored it for the moment and focused on the group of officers at large.

Wilkes turned all the way around to face her, and the look on his face suggested she was crazy—or that she'd sprouted two additional heads. "Excuse me— _what?_ " he demanded.

"The colony's long-term self-sufficiency and survival depends on retrieval of the plant and animal embryonic vault in the biolab," she asserted firmly.

The sergeant shook his head, and inclined it in what was meant to be an intimidating gesture. "Not nearly as important as other issues that need to be dealt with here," he warned.

"We have a limited supply of rations. Ecological development must be top priority, especially because of the length of time it will take to reanimate the specimens and adapt them to the environment—"

"—So domesticate the animals and vegetation _here_ for edibility." Wilkes fixed her with a stern look. "That's _your_ responsibility, Dr. Mueller, as being the lone survivor of your team."

Her voice rose. "You're speaking as if there _are_ any animals—and that is a job for an Agriculturalist, not a Developmental Biologist—"

"—Everything else can be dealt with later. You'll do your job, _Doctor_."

Nadia seethed; no one would get away with treating her so dismissively. All of her former decorum went out the window as she raised her voice further. " _Fuck that._ "

The sergeant's eyes narrowed in fury. Bower took her arm, worry in his eyes, but she shrugged him off impatiently and stepped toward Wilkes. "Don't be fucking stupid, there are so many oth—"

"— _This discussion is over._ " Wilkes folded his arms as he walked slowly to stand in front of her. "If you feel your opinions are being treated unfairly, maybe you need to reassess just what your role is, in this settlement."

Bower pressed his lips to her ear, and his words were a low hiss for only her to hear. "Stop it. You don't want to do this; _not now._ "

Wilkes eyed them both, and directed his words to his subordinate. "Get her out of my sight."

* * *

" _Wichser_ ," she spat venomously, as Bower led her outside.

"Hey," he reprimanded her lightly, pulling her out of earshot from the sergeant's tent. "Nadia, calm down."

She tossed her hair in defiance back in the direction of the tent. "He's being fucking stupid. He won't even listen to fucking reason!"

"Hey." He held her by the shoulders. "You can't just say anything you want to him. You know that, right?" She fell silent at what she saw in his eyes; it wasn't his own embarrassment at her lack of respect towards the sergeant, but concern for her.

"Look, this guy already has it out for me," he reasoned with her, his voice soft and gravelly again. It was the voice she listened to—perhaps on a subconscious level, Bower knew that. "He's made that painfully obvious. But I don't want him to do the same to you. Don't give him a reason to."

Nadia cocked her head as she regarded him, her voice quieted as well. "So how am I supposed to convince him to let me go back to the ship, if he refuses to listen to anything I say?"

"I don't know. It'll take some time, it's not going to happen right away. Just…" The worry was evident on his face. "Don't make an enemy of him."

She frowned. "You know as well as anyone that I've handled worse—"

"—It's not that, it's politics. If we were both to piss him off badly enough, he would do something…he might even take you away from me." Bower's lips tightened. "And there would be nothing either of us could do about it."

She wanted to ask how that was even possible, but before she could the meeting had been adjourned and the other officers were exiting the tent, and Bower was pulled away to begin assembling the colonists for debriefing.

* * *

It took nearly an hour to simply assemble all of the survivors together and divide them into groups. There were just too many people—twelve hundred, Nadia upped her estimate to—and too few of the enlisted military working as enforcers. Nadia did her best to help Bower attain order, but mostly it was he alone vying for the colonists' attention. There were no microphones or voice amplifiers, so he had to practically shout to be heard over the ambient noise of the crowds.

When they'd finally quieted and turned their attention to him, Bower began to speak.

"I'm Corporal Bower. I'm—I _was_ , also, _Elysium's_ lead Mechanical Engineer." He clasped his hands behind his back in a gesture of deference. "I've been ordered to fill all of you in on what's happened to the mission."

A man near the front spoke up. "It's about time; we've been waiting for that." Nadia shot the man a stern glance.

Bower ducked his head as he hesitated, but only slightly. "The trip to Tanis took approximately one hundred and twenty-three years, as we were told it would before the launch. During that time, an incident happened on board that disrupted the normal flight crew rotation. Consequently, many people were awakened aboard the ship without proper authorization, and then left to their own devices while the perpetrator put himself back into stasis…"

Murmuring went up in the crowd. " _'Their own devices_ '?" a dark-haired woman asked. "What exactly does that mean?"

"It means they were left trapped in a portion of the ship, without food or sustenance for an extended length of time," Bower explained, his face as deadpan as Nadia thought he could manage.

Many of the colonists were already horrified, and Nadia felt a vague pang of dread surface as she looked at the faces around her. _This is only the beginning, folks—you haven't heard anything, yet._

"Who would do such a thing?" another asked.

"It was a member of the first flight crew team. It was only two years into the mission when these incidents occurred." The murmurs increased in volume.

"Is this person still around?" An older, graying man surveyed his surroundings fearfully. "Is it someone here with us, on Tanis?..."

Bower shook his head. "No, he's—" He paused, his eyes searching the crowd until they settled on Nadia's; only then did he turn back to the questioner. "He didn't survive the breach of the ship's hull. He's dead." He began again, more uncertainly this time. "As a result of being left to fend for themselves in the bowels of the ship, the passengers…some of them, we think, at least…were forced into…cannibalism."

More gasps. The vague dread that Nadia had felt surfacing had turned into a leaden ball of it in the pit of her stomach.

"They had to _eat_ each other?"

"Oh my _god_."

There were many colonists who were simply silent, absorbing the information given. It didn't make Nadia feel any better to observe them—they were most likely missing someone here on Tanis, a friend, a relative, a spouse brought on board, and were slowly coming to the horrifying realization of what their fate might have been.

Bower continued, the anguish becoming steadily more apparent in his features. "Cannibalizing one another meant…ingesting more of the enzymatic fluid we were all fed in the hyper bunks," he went on to explain. He looked again towards Nadia, nodding in her direction. "Our resident scientist has explained that over time, this enzyme can readily change us…altering us into something else entirely. It was meant to help us adapt to Tanis, but…instead…" He faltered, meeting her eyes, and Nadia stepped forward.

"…It made them adapt to the harsh environment on the ship," she said clearly and firmly, turning around to address those around her. The survivors looked to her curiously, and she saw Bower's grateful glance out of the corner of her eye. "It altered them, fundamentally…and it changed their descendants as well."

"So can someone tell us _how long_ exactly we've been asleep?" another in the crowd asked, and several other voices chimed in with choruses demanding the same answer. "Over a hundred years? Longer?"

"At some point we landed on Tanis," she answered truthfully, "but in the ocean, because there was no flight crew. We were under the water for eight hundred more years."

The responses were too many to catalog. People began shouting, crying, their faces marred by disbelief, horror and anger. Their reactions mystified Nadia; she'd expected some disbelief and surprise, but she couldn't quite fathom the anger. _Why would they be angry, when they've been spared from the hell that was being awake and trapped on that godforsaken ship?_

"People, please," Bower called out in an effort to pacify them. "Please, I need you to calm down and listen to me."

A young man called out, "Why didn't Earth send help?"

Nadia's breath stopped in her lungs, as Bower met her gaze once more and held it fast. _They want the truth, but they don't know what they're asking._ She could see in his eyes that he was ready to give up, that he knew he could no longer keep this crowd under control with the information.

"…Because Earth is gone," Bower said to them at length, his voice hollow with regret.

Instead of a fresh frenzy, there was silence and denial. " _Gone?_ How could it be gone?"

"What happened to it?"

Bower grimaced. "There was a message intercepted…there's some evidence that it may have been destroyed—"

" _May_ have? So you don't know, is what you're saying?"

"Why would you tell us this, if you aren't completely certain of it?"

"What kind of _bullshit_ answer is that?"

The questions became progressively more heated and accusatory, and the crowd began slowly advancing on Bower, who looked as though he were at the end of his rope. She knew he had no evidence for them, no certainties, no easy answers any longer. She felt fury seething and boiling up inside of her at the sight of it.

" _ **Stop it**_ , all of you," she shouted above the clamor, stalking to Bower's side and placing herself directly between him and the throng of people. "You should be getting down on your knees and thanking whatever god you believe in that you're still alive… _weil_ _Sie wissen nicht!"_

The colonists looked at her in confusion; Nadia bit her lip. In her anger, she'd lapsed into German again. She quelled it a bit to control herself and spoke again.

"You want answers that we cannot give you right now. There is no way we can attempt to contact Earth to verify the claim that it's gone. The ship is underwater and breached. Do you know why there are only twelve hundred of us left, out of a crew of sixty thousand?" She schooled her face as expressionless as she could. "Because the remaining 58,800 crew members were _fucking eaten alive_ right out of their hyper bunks, by a handful of de-evolved monsters."

The shock value was successful; the colonists froze, their mouths gaping open in surprise and horror, and she took advantage of the momentary silence.

"The only reason you are all even standing here is because you were lucky enough not to get eaten. And because of a fortunate accident, we all made it out of the ship." She gazed out at the crowd and pointed behind her at Bower, her features scowling. "So don't you fucking _dare_ attack this man for not having the answers you want— _he_ was the one who freed you, regardless if it was intentional or not."

She didn't turn around to see Bower's face in that moment, but she imagined he was just as stunned as the rest of the colonists were that she'd given him credit for saving them. She realized, with a heavy heart, that she hadn't even thanked him herself for saving her own life—for having pushed her into the capsule and given her his air, during their ascent to the surface of Tanis.

"…Is Earth really gone?" a woman near the forefront of the group was asking, beginning to break down in tears, and Nadia's attention snapped back to the present. " _Oh, my_ _god_ …"

"There's nothing left," another man wailed, his voice sounding broken and shattered. " _There's nothing left._ " The crowd dissolved into laments and expressions of grief.

Nadia swallowed past the emotion that had reared its head in her throat and raised her voice again, letting it carry above them. "— _We_ are what's left!"

In the brief silence following her words, she went on, "You say that there is nothing left, but _we_ are left. We are _all that remains_ of what our species once was. And we survived."

"Everything that used to define who we are is _gone_ ," an older, white-haired man argued as he spread his hands in defeat. "There's no more art, no more music, no more history, no more scientific discoveries…"

"It's true," she admitted, canting her head toward him as her hair fell into her eyes. "There will be no symphonies written, no paintings commissioned, and I doubt anyone had the foresight to bring the entire history of everything we've ever known. But if that's all that defines us, those four things…I disagree. I say it's much more than that." She looked out into the crowd again, raising her voice. "We are the blank slates, the canvases that will be used to create everything new. Don't you see? It's _our choice_ what defines us, now—we are pure, raw, unwritten potential. And as the seeds of a new world, we have a responsibility to see it through."

"But so many have died…"

She nodded in understanding. "There are people who have lost loved ones that were brought with them on that ship…and their sadness and loss is justified. But life goes on; _we_ are proof of it. Your loved ones would have wanted you to live on, for them, and now you must gather your strength and persevere so that those already dead haven't died in vain."

"And what if we don't want to stay alive here, without the ones we lost?" a young woman asked, tears swimming in her eyes, and Nadia felt her heart lurch.

Despair was something she was all too familiar with. How many times had she thought about taking her own life aboard _Elysium_ , after waking up to discover their mission to Tanis had gone horribly wrong? After her team had died? After she'd considered the possibility that no one was running the ship any longer, and that she might possibly be the only real human left awake…and that she would likely die in degrading and excruciating agony, being ripped apart as she was eaten alive?

But every time the thought had even remotely crossed her mind there had been something pulling, tugging at the edges of her awareness—something raw and primal that wouldn't let go, that demanded to be heard, telling her she would eventually go down but it would be while kicking, screaming, _fighting._ The survival instinct, in its most base form.

_Slashing with my knife at the belly of the beast._ The beast hadn't always been something as tangible as what had hunted her aboard _Elysium_ ; sometimes it had been fear itself.

Overcome with compassion, Nadia approached the woman—a slip of a girl, blonde with green eyes, perhaps younger than she was—and laid her hand gently on the girl's shoulder. "I'm sorry for your loss…but you have to be stronger than that. You have to find the will in yourself to live, even if that person's not by your side."

The girl's lips trembled. "I don't want to be alone," she whispered.

"You're _not_ alone." She directed her words to the group at large. "None of us are alone." It struck her, then, just what she was saying—and she thought of Bower, who had stayed by her side even when she was untrusting and dismissive of him, who had prepared a place for her to sleep, had fed her and sheltered her, and asked absolutely nothing in return. Her voice lost its edge as she looked out among them.

"All we have here is one another."

The crowd had grown calm now, quieter with introspection, and Nadia moved away slightly from the throng of people. "This is home, now," she said, as a final thought. "This is my home, and your home. And it is the only home we will ever know for the rest of our lives."

She wasn't even aware of Bower's approach from behind her until she felt him enclasp her hand in his, entwining their fingers and squeezing briefly.

His head inclined ever so slightly towards hers as he stood beside her, his voice low and whispering in her ear. " _Thank you_." Out of the corner of her eye she saw that he was gazing at her, but she was unable to meet his eyes at that moment; there was too much that she was afraid she would see. She could only manage a slight nod in reply.

She felt it as his hand released hers, and he stepped forward to address the colonists again.

"Listen, everyone, I need your full cooperation with this." There was a clear strength now in his voice that Nadia hadn't heard since they were aboard _Elysium_. "I need those of you who are trained engineers and mechanics to report to me immediately. I will need to know your identification code, which is the tattooed number on the inside of your arm. Please see me if there any questions about skill sets, or designations in general…"

Nadia moved away from the group, turning away toward the beach to collect her thoughts. All around her, other groups of colonists were also being briefed on the events on the ship, expressing varied and visceral reactions—shock, fear, sadness, elation that they were among the privileged few to survive. They held one another, touching each other as though they were emotional lifelines.

They would have to thrive, and propagate the species. They had to, in order to survive. All who had lost someone precious to them would need to find that person anew, here, on Tanis, among the survivors; loss and grief left scars, but would heal eventually with the passage of time. It was just that question of time, before they would find and choose their mates.

As she looked out again at the water, at _Elysium's_ arch rising above the waves, Nadia wondered if she'd already made her choice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wichser: (German) literally "wanker", but is often used to mean asshole
> 
> weil Sie wissen nicht: (German) because you know nothing

**Author's Note:**

> entschuldigen Sie: (German) Excuse me, pardon me
> 
> allazosartan: A name I made up to denote the pharmacological designation of the evolution enzyme. "Allazo" in Greek means "I change".


End file.
